Dark as Ice
by Lulu-Prints
Summary: When the world was in darkness, it was him alone erasing nightmares and protecting the children from fear. All Pitch Black saw was darkness, so why should he be condemned to do this on his own? The story of Pitch Black's life before the birth of all other Guardians, and how he would eventually come to face them as their worst enemy. Rated T for now.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Rise of the Guardians. I wish though, really. I also write slash, so we'll see where this goes.

**A/N: **Hi! I'm back with a story from RotG - Who's surprised? What with Jack Frost being the fabulous character he is, and Pitch Black being all illegal with that voice.. Ahem. This story covers Pitch's end to his human life, as well as his 'past' as an unofficial guardian before he decided to change his mind and adopt the boogieman persona he currently operates under. I was intrigued by how Jack was chosen to be a guardian from the moment he saved his sister from the ice; what if the other characters, even Pitch Black, was born in the same manner? This is my interpretation of what was told in the movies from other characters' perspective.

I also write slash, and this fic was born from a slash idea, but we'll see where this goes. If you readers decided you rather not see slash, review and I'll probably chuck the slash scenes into a separate fic, which will be referred to when the slash scenes come.

* * *

**Prologue**

Darkness, cold as ice, engulfed him from all directions.

It was November, and the winds were chilly to the bones; and snow, which had accumulated over the mountains through the month, was already knee-high and threatening to pour over. As he laid in the cold, he glanced over at the mountain path just a arm's stretch away - but no one was going to happen upon him, not with the howling winds and the rising storm keeping people away from climbing this mountain.

Pitt Black slacked his weakened frame once more, collapsing entirely into the cold snow. His muscles were numb with fear, his body wet in the drying pool of his own blood, but it seems his attackers had lost all interest in him. Recalling those pitch black irises that bore into him as he was being mauled, Pitt shuddered, feeling the sickening slush of his blood around him.

Vaguely, he wondered if the girl he had saved had gotten away. Perhaps the bears were upon her this instance, tearing away at her long golden hair, sinking nails of steel into her small, shivering frame - as they had done with him..

Above him, the sky was slowly robbed of its colours, fading into the dull shades of coal. Soon the stars were there, twinkling in his eyes, laughing at his misfortune.

If only he hadn't jumped out, attracting the bears' attention onto his long, angry frame. If only he hadn't cried out, chucking stones blindly, all in hopes to turn the bears' away..

Just as he was about the close his eyes eternally, the moon peeked out from behind the heavy veil of winter clouds, and brought itself full into his view. His lids were heavy like stones, but he forced himself to look up, to entertain the moon's soft whispering song once more.

"I've held on long enough," he sighed, forcing all the strength he had left to bring his right arm to his chest. "I can't hold on anymore.."

The moon sighed as he had done, and sang another verse of slow, comforting rhyme; like a lullaby, Pitt thought, chuckling sadly as he finally allowed his eyelids to fall. He could do with this last lullaby.

A wind ran through the snowy trees around him, but it was not chilly; in fact, it was almost warm, tickling his cheeks as though they were unwilling to let him go. He understood this was the moon's wish - but nothing, not even this, would get him to open his eyes again.

"Perhaps in another life, my friend.."

The moon was reduced to a soft white blur behind his eyelids. Then, he felt himself letting ago, and soon he was drowning away into the soft white light.

"Perhaps.."


	2. A Rising Darkness

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Rise of the Guardians. I wish though, really. I also write slash, so we'll see where this goes.

**A/N: **Ah, the issue with Pitch's name (Pitt, haha) will be addressed in the next chapter.

* * *

**A Rising Darkness**

Darkness, warm as fire, licked at his frame like a friendly pack of wolves.

He entertained the idea of opening his eyes, even if it was just for a while, to check if what he felt was real. The lapping was not wet, more soft than familiar, but he knew he didn't have to be bothered with checking; since there was no way that was happening to him. He should be dead, for hours or days or months, or years even. There was no telling how long he had closed his eyes for.

However, that Earth-bound feeling that surrounded him right now was too real to be true, Pitt thought. In his slumber he had been sinking, continuously; but now that he was so close to opening his eyes, the free-falling feeling was gone. What replaced it what was undoubtedly snow against his back, cold but soft.

Snow. That was comforting. It hinted that it was still Wintertime. Perhaps time has not flown by as quickly as he had thought it would have, Pitt mused, feeling his lips pull up into a smile. Perhaps it was still not long after he had died.

He could smile. The thought shot through his mind suddenly, freezing the smile on his face into an awkward sort of grimace. He could smile. He knew he had felt his lips being pulled back into a smile. The control he felt over his body surprised him - shouldn't he be dead? How can he control his body as though he was.. Alive? What had happened to him upon his death? Had he.. Really, died, at all?

Inhaling deeply through his nose, feeling the powdery mist running a calming feeling through his frame, Pitt mentally prepared himself, and opened his eyes.

The world was suddenly brought right into his view, and Pitt couldn't help but exclaiming out loud.

He was lying right where he had been left, in the mountains blanketed by snow. However, there was something different about everything around him - The trees, once still and emotionless, were now swaying side by side, as though they were welcoming him back. The stars, once cold and jeering, were now sparkling with delight as he tried to raise himself up from the snow. The lapping that he had felt was a strange veil of darkness that surrounded him, like the pool of his own blood that he had fallen asleep in - except his blood had dried into the snow, and the pool that he had been lying in was replaced by this flowing piece of dark fabric that seemed to be shielding him from the cold of winter.

And the moon.. Ah, yes, the moon.. His only company, his only friend for so many years now, was closer to him than ever, smiling down at him as a gentle gust of winter air brushed against his face.

Pitt Black reached out an uncertain hand, and felt a soft surface landing in his palm. When he pulled it closer for a better look, he found himself staring into a beautifully formed snow crystal, and he was mesmerized by the beauty in the details he was never able to see before.

The breeze around him seemed to chuckle as though the moon had read his mind, and Pitt turned his attention back to his old friend while trying to raise his frame from the ground.

"Why, moony?" Pitt asked, hesitantly, shrugging his shoulders free from the snow. "Why am I alive?"

At the sound of his words, the trees around him slowed into a dance of hesitant circles; the winds blew what sounded like gentle weeping in his ears.

"I'm.. not Alive?" the words that came out from his lips were slow, like a whisper. He understood what they were trying to tell him, but he could not comprehend. "But this.." Pitt raised his right arm from the cloth of darkness, marveling at its pale, perfect texture, unstained by the blood he was drowned in as he was dying. "This," he repeated, looking down at his chest and seeing not the wounds after wounds left on his frame as the bears dug claws into him. "This.." he repeated brokenly, looking back up at the moon for answers. "Doesn't mean.. I'm.. Alive?"

The breeze that had been surrounded him danced away suddenly, heading straight for the path that would lead him off the mountain. A trail of sparkling, pale lights hung in its path, and Pitt understood almost immediately that he was to follow it, let it lead him to answers.

_Go see for yourself_, the moon seemed to say.

"Alright.." Pitt sighed, and raised himself completely. Unwilling to leave the comfort of the dark fabric behind, Pitt lifted the light material up, and wrapped it around himself. As it rested against his bare skin, the fabric started to shape itself around his frame. In a quick blink of an eye, all that was left of the fabric was a dark robe that fitted warm and snuggly on his tall figure.

"That's nice," Putt mused in a quiet chuckle, and hurried towards the dimming trail of lights.

* * *

Without a doubt, the flickering lights were leading him back to his village, Pitt realized and followed on with an unenthusiastic sigh. He was never really welcomed nor accepted here - not when his father died on a hunting trip for the family, not when his mother skipped town in search of better prospects elsewhere. Abandoned at a young age, he had to learn to support himself, to keep himself alive. His fellow villagers took pity on him from time to time, but no one could really afford to add another mouth to feed to their own families.

The faithful day of his death had been no different. He had been up in the mountains searching for edible plants to last through winter, knowing no one would bother him in such cold, harsh weather. He would hunt if he could, but he was unlucky to not have inherited any skills from his father.. Perhaps, if he had known an extra thing or two, he could have somehow changed the situations with the bears..

But for now, these were not his main concerns. All he needed to do was to continue, and these lights would lead him back to his little hut, he knew.

As he paced slowly down the center of his village, Pitt noticed how the place was lit ablaze by many bon fires and torches, and the winter night seemed so far away in this well-lit village. What day was it today? Was there a celebration that he didn't know of? Questions after questions surfaced in his mind, but Pitt knew no one would be able to answer him. His villagers were often reluctant to talk to him, and they only acknowledged his presence with pitying eyes.

Pitt spun around slowly on the spot to observe his surroundings, and almost knocked into a pair of armed men running past him.

He stared at their disappearing backs for a moment, trying to comprehend the need for those spears they had been carrying. What sort of celebration was this? As he stood on the spot, more people rushed past him - the adults of the village, some armed, others with torches and nets, all of them heavily dressed as though they were about the venture into the cold, winter night.

Each of them had worry laced deep into the lines of their face. They ignored Pitt with a sort of unspoken unison, passing by him without so much as sparing him a side glance, or a rude, "Step away!" as they normally would've done.

"Erm, anyone.." Pitt muttered, looking around him, stepping aside to avoid people crashing into him. "Someone, please tell me-"

Pitt had reached out to tap a man passing by; however, instead of catching the soft fur on his jacket, Pitt felt his hand slip through the man's shoulder as though he was immaterial, and he jumped back with a shocked gasp.

"What-"

As he spun around, shock etched in his eyes, another guy ran right through him, and carried on unaffected by the encounter.

"- No.."

More people, this time the housewives running after their husbands, passed through his hollow frame.

"No.. No!"

Pitt sank into a curled up crouch in the middle of the path, shivering madly, his hands brought up to shield his head as he cowered in fear. He could not understand. Is this what it feels like, to be dead? To be in this immaterial form? Will he be stuck, like this, forever? What? Why..

The crowd had passed him, leaving nothing but footsteps in the snow. Pitt stayed cowering for another full minute, shivering not from the winter cold. Then, a soft breeze brushed against his face, prompting him to lift his head up to look at the moon.

That was when Pitt realized the abnormal moisture in his eyes, and that he was crying.

The tear tracks on his face felt chilly in the winter winds, so he reached up hesitantly to wipe them off. At the same time, the sparkling trail of lights relit themselves, leading him towards the village center - where the crowd had been heading towards.

"I should.. Follow?"

Against the rough, grey snow, the trail of lights flickered brighter than before, as though they were trying to say, "Yes."

"Will I.. Get answers..?"

A strong gust of wind rushed at him from behind all of a sudden. Pitt glanced up in surprise to look at the moon, who was never such an aggressive character - but he understood how he was asked to carry on.

And carry on he would.

* * *

As expected, the lights brought him to the village center, where an extra large bonfire was set in the middle of the crowd gathered in a tight circle. Pitt slipped in hesitantly, knowing that he was immaterial now, and found himself standing beside their village chief.

Chief Crey was an old man of ferocious tales; the village often shared stories of how he had braved the mountains for bears when he was a younger, stronger man. Now, even though age has robbed him of his vitality and strength, he was still a figure of wisdom and insight for the villagers.

And this moment, Chief Crey's eyes were dark as he studied the mountain in the distance - the mountain Pitt had lost his life on.

"We should hurry before a storm approaches!"

Cries erupted from the gathered circle of armed men; they seem to be discussing some sort of a search. A search party - of that girl he had saved, in the mountains! Pitt gasped as a few more people passed through his hollow frame. She had not made it back from the mountains..

Pitt found himself circling the crowd, listening out for a name. "Annie," someone had mentioned. Little Annie, separated from her parents who were out hunting for small animals on the mountain..

"I should never have let her out of my sights!" A shrill, grieving voice cried out, and Pitt realized that was the mother of little Annie.

More whispers, more urgent than ever, ran through the crowd. It seemed to be the general consensus that they would search the mountains regardless of the time; Hopefully, before the next storm approaches, rendering torches useless. Chief Crey, however, would not approve of the search - Pitt hears about the party that had gone earlier in the evening, and how they have yet to return.

"Could Pitt Black be behind this?"

A small, worried voice of a female sounded from somewhere in the crowd, and Pitt glanced in horror at the source of that accusation.

"Black?"

"That orphaned boy who lives in the corner of the village?"

"That boy is a misfortune!"

"His house is empty.."

"I saw him heading towards the mountains today!"

"What a horror.."

"How could he dare!"

With widened eyes, Pitt found himself slowly approaching the woman who had started this new murmur of anger. He could not understand why; sure, he was alienated and singled out as a misfortune, but why would they think he would do anything, anything at all to such a defenseless little girl he didn't even know? Why would they even dare suggest a thing like this?

To think - he had put his life in the middle of little Annie and the bears. He was not expect some form of repayment, some form of reward; but this is the kind of acknowledgement he gets from his peers?

The dark clouds from overhead rumbled, tumbling fiercely across the village's skies. Some of the villagers in the crowd jumped in fear, but Pitt could not care anymore for these heartless villagers. He reached out a shaking hand towards the nameless woman who had started this accusation, anger deep in his eyes. Where he reached forward, a darkness amassed itself; soon, it took the form of a dark dagger, and Pitt was enraged enough to want to drive this deep into everyone in the crowd.

A strong squall of chilly winds blew straight at the crowd, and people started screaming; the gust threatened to throw Pitt of his feet, but Pitt would not let himself be deterred by the moon this time.

The rage in his veins was overruling his thoughts.

There was nothing he could care more about at this point.

Raising the dagger high in the air, Pitt tensed his frame as he prepared to bring it down with all his might-

Then a cry sounded from the direction of the mountains, and the harsh winds around them stopped abruptly without warning.

* * *

**Thank you for reading! Review please? ;)**


	3. Alive once More

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Rise of the Guardians. I wish though, really. I also write slash, so we'll see where this goes.

**A/N: **Oh dear, I just found out that RoTG had a series of books published. Opps! That's what happens when I don't research enough, sorry.. That's also why I take so long to write and rewrite my fics. Oh well, just wanted to say that this story explores a completely different starting and interaction between the Man in the Moon and Pitch Black.

**Thank you for reading and following! (: Reviews are always appreciated ;)**

* * *

**Alive once More.**

Darkness, fast as lightning, knocked him off his feet as the clouds overhead cleared with unseen speed.

Even though he was falling onto people - well, technically, _through_ them, onto the ground, Pitt could feel no pain aching through his frame. In place of the pain was shock, fresh and apparent on his face. The dagger in his hand had gone just as quickly as he had summoned it, vanishing into the darkness where it had materialized from. Flexing his fingers in disbelief, Pitt slowly raised himself up, and eyed his hand in fascination.

_That was something else_, he thought, clenching his right hand into a fist; only to unclench it having tried summoning the dark weapon again in vain.

Throwing a quick glance at the crowd still surrounding him, Pitt was surprised to feel an absence of the once tensed atmosphere. In its place was relief, clear as the night skies above them. Pitt detached himself from the mass of gathered villagers, wandering at an unhurried pace off to the side where he could better see the source of the distraction.

For a whole moment, Pitt couldn't comprehend the situation. He watched as a line of villagers trooped towards the building crowd with lethargic steps, their eyes tired but filled with satisfaction. As they marched on, Pitt finally noticed that this was the search party that had braved the mountains this evening, and how they had returned with little Annie, shaken but alright.

The crowd cheered as the little girl was finally returned to her mother's arms, and Pitt swiftly turned to walk away. Now that he no longer had reasons to linger around, he should probably leave to attend to what Moony had wanted him to see. Better now before he lost his temper again anyway, he reflected with a sigh. Little Annie was back, safe and sound in the protective arms of these villagers; at least that was one weight off his chest.

However, as though on cue, the sound of his own name caught his attention. It rooted him to the spot, and as unwilling as he felt, Pitt could not help but to turn around.

"... what of Pitt Black?" Someone managed in a quiet voice, but amongst the suddenly hushed crowd, it sounded clear as thunder. "Was he up there?"

The search party members gave each other a weird look, and one of them withdrew a piece of clothing slowly from his bag. Pitt leaned in unconsciously to take a better look. Even from a distance, he could see that it was rags of the jacket he had been wearing - torn, wet with melted snow, and stained with his blood.

The villages gathered around gave rude gasps of shock, exchanging horrified looks with one another.

"Bwears!" Little Annie cried out suddenly, her eyes tearing up as she caught sight of the rags.

"_Bears_?" A new wave of shock seemed to have crashed through the crowd. "Bears in the mountains?"

Even little Annie's mother seemed to be shaken once more. As she held the little girl tighter in her arms, she threw a frightened glance at her husband, who had been standing just behind her. The crowd seemed to not know where to place their eyes, and they all started looking down at their fetes.

"And Pitt Black? What happened to him?"

The terrified looks she was getting seemed to be frightening little Annie, because all she could manage in a small voice was, "He shouted.. And I ran.."

An air of uncomfortable awkwardness settled onto the crowd, and in unison, they glanced at the mountain far away as though they were trying to imagine what had happened. Pitt, too, turned to face the distant summit, and he could almost see the scene replaying before his eyes. When he finally blinked the visions away, he was taken aback again by the moisture clinging to his lashes.

Now, the story had been set straight. Pitt didn't know if he should feel sad, or relieved. All he did know was that it was time for him to finally leave. However, he couldn't go without one last lingering look, which eventually brought his sad, golden eyes to focus on little Annie. Surprise prompt him to take a step back when he noticed how the little girl had caught his gaze and was staring straight at him with wide eyes, but Pitt waved it off by telling himself it was just a coincidence. After all, the rest of the villagers could not see him, so why should she?

So why, why was it that he couldn't take his eyes off her equally surprised stare?

As he took another uncertain step back, the little girl leapt into action. Wriggling out of her mother's embrace, she dashed straight for Pitt's paralyzed form, shouting "Pitch!" at the top of her voice.

"Pitch?" The adults around her echoed, but made no move to stop the little girl. Vaguely, Pitt figured they were either too taken aback, like he was, or simply didn't know how they could react.

When the little girl finally bumped into him, she had her arms outstretched as though she had intended to hug him; but owing to their great difference in height, she could only cling onto his left leg. The sudden contact made Pitch tremble, but it was not unpleasant; in fact, the happiness he felt welling up inside him was so strong it was threatening to explode from his chest.

He had expected her to just dash straight through him, so the feeling of the little girl's weight against his leg cheered him up more than he could ever hope for. Pitt found himself kneeling down on his right knee while trying his best not to move his other leg. As his right hand sank into the snow-covered ground for support, he was finally able to bring his face closer to hers, and she turned her head to catch his eyes once more.

"Pitch!" Little Annie cried out again, delight clear in her crystalline voice.

"You.. You can see.. Me?"

She nodded in excitement, reaching out a hand as though she wanted to hold his face.

"By 'Pitch'.. You mean, me?" He asked again, guessing the little girl could not pronounce his name right. Pitt closed his eyes with a gentle chuckle as her warm palm touched his cool skin.

Laughing, little Annie gave another nod, and rubbed her hand in a circular motion on his cheeks. The contact felt sweet and good, and for an instant, Pitt thought he could almost forget how lonely and isolated not being seen felt.

When the pair of them finally stopped chuckling, Pitt raised his head and shot a nervous glance at the crowd.. While they were distracted, the villagers had finally started to gather around little Annie. Since they couldn't see him, all they would be able to see was Little Annie floating a little above ground with a hand reached out, Pitt assumed. He would definitely agree on how weird an image that was.

So he did what he could. Nuzzling into the little's warm hand one last time, Pitt gently detached her from himself, and set her on the snow in front of him.

"Thank you," he whispered, ruffing her hair long golden hair with a trembling hand before pointing at her parents, standing worriedly behind her. "Go on, Now.."

"Thank yew _too_," she laughed again before picking herself up, and dashing away towards her parents.

The crowd around them sighed in relief and hurried away in unison, as though they didn't want to be part of anything weird and unexplainable anymore. Pitt stood up slowly, keeping his head down while dusting the snow off his robes as he gave another soft sigh. Maybe only children could see him. Maybe only little Annie could. He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

He didn't know if he was prepared to find out.

When he looked up to glance at his surroundings again, Pitt was surprised to see that little Annie's parents were still standing where they were a moment before. The young girl had fallen asleep in her father's arms, and the man himself looked like he wanted nothing but to run away from the place; however, the mother was holding them both on the spot, her eyes unfocused, her lips pursed in a thin, shaky line.

She thew a look through Pitt's frame as though she was trying her best to see him, but sighed when she couldn't.

"I'm sorry," she finally said, looking down at her feet. Rooted on the spot, Pitt found that he could not react to this apology. All he could do was to stare, wide eye, at her embarrassed gaze, trying to guess her emotions, trying to understand.

"I'm sorry.. And thank you, Pitt.. Well, _Pitch_, Black."

With that, she gave her husband a nod without glancing at him. Just as Pitt thought she was going to just leave, she raised her head suddenly, and threw one last sweeping look at the bonfire clearing. The stricken, immaterial male barely managed to catch her passing gaze; but for the briefest moment, he thought he saw a sparkle of fresh tears welled up in her eyes.

The sharp breath he had finally managed to inhale was caught heavily at his throat, and Pitt had to look away.

Before Pitt could react, the couple had joined hands, only to turn and walk away together as a family.

* * *

Long after little Annie's family had left him, long after he finally managed to find his way back to his little hut, Pitt's mind remained at clearing, stuck on the vision of silvery tears he had caught sight on the woman's face.

Her eyes had been sparkling with gratefulness, riddled with confusion and guilt.

The puzzling part for Pitt was how he could understand exactly how the woman, a mother, felt. And how he wished he could speak out to her, to tell her she didn't need to weigh the guilt of his death on herself. And on top of all of that, Pitt hadn't known he was capable of feeling so much in a day, much less considering the fact that he was supposed to be dead.

Settled comfortably onto a pile of snow outside of his hut, Pitt leaned his head back with a lethargic smile, and raised his eyes to gaze at the moon. The robe of darkness he donned provided him with unexpected warmth that seemed to radiate inwards without affecting the snow on the surface of it. It seemed to extend the warmth to his legs as well, which really helped, since he didn't have any footwear on.

All these dramatic turn of events, all in a night's work. Pitt looked up at the suddenly silent moon, and sighed.

"Is this what you brought me back for?" He couldn't help but to question once again. "Did you intend for this, Moony?"

For once the moon was not dying to answer his question. Instead, he remained silent, just watching him as though he was waiting for Pitt to figure it all out for himself.

"And if I'm not alive.." Pitt continued after a minute of peaceful silence, unshaken by the moon's lack of reply. "What sort of a.. A being, am I to be considered as?" The question made Pitt frown in deep concentration, his brows furrowing with dissatisfaction.

"A ghost? A shadow.." Recalling how it felt as the villagers passed through his frame, Pitt shuddered and looked down at his right hand. The feeling of trying to tap a man on his shoulder only to end up swiping _through_ it felt horrible, but at least now he knew he could still be seen and touched by some. "A phantom, maybe.. Or wait, A.. Spirit!" Pitt almost exclaimed, knowing he had found the right word for his state. "A spirit.." He repeated, excitement almost flushing a pale pink across his cheeks.

Overhead, the moon seemed to chuckle, throwing a soft beam of moonlight across his chest, where his slackened, crossed arms lay.

"A spirit, eh.." Pitt reached out a hand, scooping at the beam even though he knew he could not catch it. He watched as the beam shifted, as through trying to avoid his grasp; then, it shone upon the snow beside where he lay, lighting up a square frame as the moon tried drawing pictures with shadows.

Shifting to lay on his side, Pitt watched the moving shadows in Moony's light theater as his finger doodling shadows in the snow. Moony's moving images flirted from rough shapes to defined silhouettes, like towering figures of bears, and baring fangs of wolves; or a distorted, wide-mouth smile, or simply a pair of eternally pitch dark eyes, staring straight into him and never wavering a single bit.

"Fear," Pitt realized after Moony have had that pair of dark eyes glare at him twice. "Fear, in the form of.. _Nightmares_! Moony.. You.. You chose me to.. You want _me_, to _drive away these fears_?"

The glaring eyes blinked shut, and for a moment the beam of light was perfectly clear. Then, the shadows morphed gently into little silhouettes of children joined hand in hand in a circle. Pitt watched as the little shadowy kids danced around in the white moon beam with little smiles on their faces. A tall figure soon emerged from behind the circle, but the children did not break their dance; instead, they kept pace while adding the tall figure to their formation, and the tall figure looked up to stare straight at Pitt with stunning, but joy-filled silver eyes.

The image choked his breath in his throat, and Pitt abruptly threw himself onto his feet to stare up at the moon in disbelief.

"You want me to _protect children_?"

The moon almost giggled, shining its beam down at Pitt's face playfully. The spirit of darkness had to raise his hand to block the ray off his embarrassed features; even then, a gentle winter breeze blew across his cheeks, and elicited a quiet laugh from Pitt as the winds whispered yet again in his ears.

"A spirit guardian.." Pitt repeated, lowering his hand unconsciously as his mind raced through the possibilities he could see with his future. "Me, a spirit guardian? I guess this is what you sneakily plot for in your spare time huh, Moony?"

The beam of light dimmed before his eyes, and it was as if the moon was nodding to his words.

As ironic as it would sound, for the first time in the many years of his life, Pitt Black felt a real burning desire coursing through his frame. A need to fulfill this mission presented to him. Happiness was contagious; the feeling euphoria tore through him simply thinking about the powers he now held in his hands, and knowing all that he could do with it.

All the joy he _knew_ he could bring..

_Where to, now though?_ He heard the question in the back of his head, and briefly looked up at the moon as though the question had not been his own. But no doubt the moon shared the same question, because the moon beam lit a quick question mark before his eyes, and Pitt paused to look down at his flexing right hand.

"I practice," he answered with a soft voice, unclenching his fist to find a cloud of darkness sitting neatly in the middle of his palms. The winds around him darkened as they started picking up speed, and Pitt knew well it would take him wherever he wanted to go. It was time to leave his town behind.

"You can't have me running around untrained, can you?"

_Sure you can, Pitt Black_, he heard a twinkling laughter in the winter breeze as it brushed past his robes, reflecting his thoughts.

"No, not Pitt Black anymore," he sighed happily, correcting both Moony and himself; the spirit of darkness turned around, throwing one last look at the blazing bonfires left scattered over the little town he would eventually come to miss.

"It's Pitch Black now," he whispered longingly, closed his eyes, and let the shadowy winds take him away into a whole new world.


End file.
